Where We Just Grew Apart
by DCFanatic4life
Summary: Stephanie lays in bed and thinks, looking at the empty pillow next to her...she hates Chris Jericho...Chris/Steph...one-shot...


**Disclaimer: I don't own the people or characters in this story. The characters are owned by WWE and the people own themselves. I just play around with them a bit, but then I put them back nicely where I found them.

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**A/N: Okay, so I was talking with Jodi (StephanieIrvine) and we give each other prompts, so this is a story based on a series of prompts she gave me. Anyways, I decided to take each prompt and make it an individual story to a bigger story. So it's one big story, but told in little individual stories (I hope that wasn't too confusing). The bolded words were the prompts she gave me.

A note, in this story, Chris doesn't have a wife or kids. I really hope you like it, it was a challenge and I didn't know whether to post it or not, but yeah, I just hope you like it because it's not something I've done before, if you want to be brutal, go ahead. Please leave a review though, they make my world go round. :)

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**Crackers**

His job was cracker sweeper.

He wasn't a wrestler anymore, nope, he was a cracker sweeper. That was his job now. Here he was, on his knees on the floor, sweeping up crackers from the floor. Actually, they weren't even crackers, they were crumbs, millions and millions of tiny crumbs for him to sweep with this flimsy little broom.

This was what his life was reduced to. Was there no end to the loss of dignity? He was just thinking the thought when a rain of crumbs fell onto his head and he groaned. This was worse than when Paul had told him for the thousandth time that he was going to have to job to him in some huge match. He just couldn't win, not as a wrestler and not under his new position as cracker sweeper.

Then came a laughing, dual laughing actually, from above him and then from the side. The one from the side got closer and closer until he could hear pattering next to him. Then nothing, a sudden stopping of movement and then he felt fingers on his shoulder and straining and then more giggling. He looked over at his visitor.

"Daddy, you have crackers in your hair!" Aurora giggled as she saw her father's hair.

Chris shook his hair out, crumbs flying everywhere as Aurora squealed at the crumbs flying off her daddy. Chris looked up and saw Murphy peering over her high chair, cracker crumbs dotting her lips as she held the offending object in her small, pudgy hand. She grinned at him, nearly toothless and he looked between her and Aurora and then continued to sweep.

It wasn't so bad being a cracker sweeper.

**Bed**

They bought it on a Wednesday. They both had the day off so it was the only time they could. Stephanie insisted on trying every mattress in the entire place. Chris let her because she was four months pregnant with his child and he wanted her to have the best. Anything she wanted, they were going to get. It was the least he could do for getting her pregnant. She'd been a little disappointed by the news. She said it was because she'd just made a return to Raw and now she was going to need to step out of the spotlight again. He figured there was more to it than that.

The bed held secrets for both of them. It was their private area. It was a thing nobody but them and their daughters got to see or be in. Sometimes they'd lay snuggled together, listening to the wind whistling outside or the rain pounding down on the roof. Other times they'd be on either side, neither one talking to one another. And sometimes there'd be a large space in the middle where one of their daughters, or both after Murphy came, would lie because they were scared or sleepy, but didn't want to sleep alone.

It was nothing special as far as beds go. It wasn't made of pure gold or anything. It was a black iron frame with white sheets. It was large, their room was large so a large bed was in order, but it was nothing really special. Still, the bed was really where home was. On the road you sleep in many beds, but when you go home, there's your one bed, sitting there, waiting for you and there's nothing better than climbing into your own bed, pulling up the covers and wiggling your toes under the clean sheets.

And some nights, they would lay there, eyes closed and they'd think about the future and the uncertainty of it. Though they were together, they had separate thoughts and sometimes those thoughts never reached the other person, sitting there in their heads and stewing and swirling and they'd open their eyes and smile and hide things because sometimes you couldn't say the words you needed to say. You just kept them all inside, kept them to yourself until the moment they exploded.

And they would explode.

**Pillow**

His pillow was empty. She ran her hand over it, hoping to feel the indentation of his head, but it was nowhere to be found. It was flat, cold, and lifeless. He hadn't been there all night. He hadn't been there the night before or the night before that. She doubted he'd be there ever again, not after what had happened. She wasn't even sure she'd allow them in their bed again. She turned on her back so she wouldn't have to face the pillow. She didn't want to look at it anymore, it was too painful.

She could still remember the pain in his eyes when she'd told him she knew. He'd looked at her with such shame and she'd sent him away. He had no good explanation for it, no explanation at all and that's what broke her. She wanted hurried words of mistakes, drunkenness, momentary lapses of sanity. She wanted something to blame it on, she wanted _someone_ to blame it on that wasn't him. She wanted him absolved of blame. She wanted too much and he could give so little.

She'd had no choice but to tell him to leave. She couldn't deal. Hadn't she told him of Paul? Hadn't she told him about how Paul had cheated and cheated so much on her and how she'd walked in on him multiple times? She'd told him, told him it broke her and still, still he had betrayed her, done the exact same thing. She was more broken now, it hurt more. Paul had been nothing in the grand scheme of things. He'd been a body, just a body to keep her warm occasionally. Chris was so much more than just a body. He was her friend, her lover, her fiancé.

The father of her children.

That thought sent the first tear down her cheek and in that moment, she wanted to forgive him, but she couldn't. She felt sick to her stomach as she thought about the picture again, the kiss. Everyone was buzzing about it, looking at her. It almost made her not want to go to work because she kept getting those looks. Everyone knew and they got these looks, pity. She hated pity.

And she hated Chris Irvine for what he'd done to her.

**IM**

**CJMetal God:** hi

**Auto Response from SMcMahonCEO:** I'm taking care of my daughters right now, if this is business, please call me on my cell phone. If this isn't business, I'll get back to you when I get a free moment, thanks.

**CJMetalGod:** if you come back soon, can we talk?

I looked at the screen again. It's approximately seventeen minutes since I messaged her. She's not returning my phone calls and she hasn't opened the door for me. She hasn't even been to work in three weeks, so this is the only way I can actually communicate with her. Even now, she hasn't responded. I try and tell myself that she's probably busy with the girls, but maybe she's sitting there, staring at the little box, mouse hovering over the x button just about to click and get it over with.

I know she's mad, but when she doesn't show up to work, when she starts working from home, having conference calls (or so I hear), that's when I worry that this could be it. I make a stupid mistake and that's it, over, nothing else, that's all she wrote, the fat lady is singing. I have no home now. We lived together so physically I have no home, but even more so, metaphorically, my home is gone too because she made it home. She made me, she made me and we made our daughters, who I also haven't seen.

I could fight harder to see them, they probably miss me, but then I think about what I did to her and I don't think I'll be able to bear looking at them. They are the best parts of me and maybe that's where all the good parts went, they're just sitting in my little girls, far away from me and logical thinking. I'm hoping Stephanie will allow me to see them. We're not married so I'm not sure the whole custody thing just yet. I've figured that Stephanie isn't going to marry me.

I don't really blame her. Why should she now? I mean, God, she told me how hard it was with Paul and what did I do? I turned around and did the same thing, albeit not the actual sex part, but I might as well have with the ruin my life is in right now.

**BarbieGrl09:** hi Chris, it's Barbie, can we talk?

I looked at the screen. That bitch had some nerve. I'd told her off the next morning, but the damage was done and now she was trying to hone in on his life and he couldn't stand it. I wanted to ignore her very existence. I'm surprised that Stephanie hasn't fired her yet, but I think everyone senses it coming. It'll be after a while though so Stephanie doesn't look like she's solely firing her because of what happened, but everyone will know. Hell, everyone does know and some guys have told me that I'm an idiot and look, I know that, some of them tell me that it must be great to hit that hot piece of young ass, but I've never hit and the only one I want to hit won't talk to me.

**BarbieGrl09: **I promise, it won't take long

I think I should answer.

**CJMetalGod:** leave me the hell alone, you've done enough

**BarbieGrl09:** I just thought with Stephanie being mad at you, you might want a shoulder…

**CJMetalGod:** no

That's it, I close the window, that's all I can tolerate. I've screwed up my life enough, I don't need it screwed up more. I look at the open message window. It's now been twenty-six minutes since I sent my IM to her and it doesn't say she's idle so she probably is just sitting there, looking at it, hovering over it. I don't deserve her words, but God I want them. Just for a few minutes, I want to talk to her, just a few minutes, please, I ask God, please let her give me that.

**SMcMahonCEO signed off at 3:28:37 PM.**

**SMcMahonCEO is offline and will receive your IMs when signing back in.**

**Liquid**

You see him sitting across the room. He has a glass in his hand and it's filled with a brown liquid, it's decidedly alcoholic. Scotch you think, but you're not entirely sure. You're also not entirely sure you want to go over there, but Aurora has been asking for him and you know Murphy's Chris cry. She's been doing it lately, you've heard her. They miss their father and you reckon it's been almost a month since they've seen him.

You feel compelled to get up, but you also feel like something's stopping you and you look over and there's what's stopping you. She's sitting there, looking down at the drink on the table. It's non-alcoholic, the girls are upstairs with your parents and she doesn't want to be drunk while she's with them though you know she longs to be drunk. She's stared at your drink enough to know she wishes she was guzzling it down and asking for another. She wants the strong liquid to burn through her throat, through her bone, straight down into her soul because that's how far deep the hurt is and if she could just get her soul drunk, maybe she'd forget for a little while because you know she hasn't forgotten.

"Maybe you should go talk to him," you tell her. You've noticed she's been glancing at him and once or twice, you've felt like there were eyes on you and you don't know because you don't know Chris, but you know your sister knows Chris and she probably felt it.

"I don't want to," she says and you know it's hard enough just for her to be there. She'd actually skipped WrestleMania this year, _WrestleMania_, because she'd been too embarrassed to be around. Barbie was still here. Stephanie hadn't the heart to have her fired though your parents and even you had offered to fire her. Stephanie didn't want to jeopardize someone's livelihood. You don't mess with someone else's money and she wasn't going to mess up Barbie's chances though you couldn't blame her if she wanted to.

She'd never missed a WrestleMania. There had been 25 of them, a full 25 and she had not missed one until now. She didn't feel comfortable and she didn't want an awkward situation. Nobody really knew the story between Chris and Barbie. You don't think they're together from the information you've gotten, but you don't keep tabs on guys or divas so who knows. But you can tell from looking at him sitting over there that he isn't a happy man. You can also tell your sister isn't a happy woman so maybe you should do something, try something, anything to help them both.

"I'm positive," she tells you and you nod.

"Do you mind then, if I go talk to him?" you ask because she's your sister and you love her and if she says no, you will stay put, right here and will not move.

But she surprises you with her answer. "Go ahead."

So you do, because she let you and you take the seat next to him and he looks haggard. How had you not noticed this? Maybe it's the dim lighting of this dingy hotel bar or maybe it's all catching up to him, but damn, do you notice now. He's hunched over, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and you think it might be. You order a beer from the bartender, scotch or whatever he's having isn't your style, more your dad's.

"Hey." You really have nothing better to say.

"You know, she looks beautiful in soft lighting," he slurs and you wonder if this is his first and he just can't hold his liquor or if it's his fifth and he's completely drunk. Maybe in between.

"What are you doing, man?" You just have to ask. You just have to. You should hate this guy for hurting your sister and damaging his relationship with her. You should hate him for tainting your nieces, but when you look at the broken man he is, you can't rage against him because what's the point? It looks like he'd punished himself and you're not one to kick a guy when he's down.

"I don't know," he said and he sloshes the brown liquid around. "I'm an idiot."

"I'll drink to that," you say as your drink appears like magic in front of you and you take a swig. You can feel your sister's eyes on you and you look over and she's staring earnestly, but it's not at you, it's at him and you can see the longing, but the hurt is clouding it over.

"I didn't mean to, it was stupid and I didn't mean to," and you think he might actually burst into tears and you don't know what to do. She would though, Stephanie would and you wish she'd come over and comfort him, but she won't, you know she won't because she's hurt, but she should because they're both broken and need fixing.

And you, Shane McMahon, you hate it because you can't fix a goddamn thing.

**Cross**

_She looks up at the cross, the huge cross, in the middle of the church. It's beautiful, carved wood and it looks so smooth and Christ's head is slung low, dying, his last breath about to be expelled and for what? For all our sins. But people still sin. They still lie and cheat and it makes her wonder if at any moment he asked if it was worth it. She thinks he would say it was because it saved them all and she's thankful for that because at points in her life she's needed saving._

_She turns her back to the garishly large stained glass windows. It's afternoon, but the light is already waning and shining in, creating a multitude of colors and shadows and Chris's face is green as he walks up to her. He's grinning and holding his arms out and he likes very much what he sees and she likes it too. She turns towards the cross again as his arms wrap tightly around her waist. He's not just holding her, he's hugging her from behind, taking in her scent and essence._

"_So what do you think?" he asked, his voice muffled from her hair._

"_I like it."_

"_You do?"_

"_I really do."_

"_You're sure."_

"_I'm positive," she told him, nodding her head. _

"_I'll let them know then," he said, pulling away slightly._

"_This is where I'm going to get married," she whispered as if she were talking to Jesus himself. She thinks he'd approve._

She cancelled the church on Tuesday.

**Kelly Clarkson**

I like Kelly Clarkson. She's pretty and she sings and I like her a lot. My mommy said that she had new songs that I could listen to and then she put it on my radio for me. My radio is pink, I like pink because it's pretty. I like Kelly Clarkson. Her songs make me want to dance and dancing is fun. Murphy can't dance yet, but my mommy said she's going to be crawling soon and then maybe after that you dance, I don't really know, but I liked to dance. You can dance to Kelly Clarkson songs. My mommy says the songs have names, but I never remember, but that's okay, I'm little.

I like dancing with my daddy. He's very silly when he dances, he does silly things. My daddy can get on the floor on his tummy and wiggle like a worm. He said something about wrestling and some guy doing worms, but I don't know what that means. My daddy makes me laugh when he's dancing and I wish I could draw it and show you, but I can't because I don't have any crayons right now. I just have my dollies with their nice hair and they have nice hair because I brush it. It's okay though, I just want to dance. I wish I could dance with my daddy.

But he's not here.

I don't really know where he went, my mommy said that he had to go somewhere important, I don't know what that means, but it sounds serious because mommy says it with the face she uses when I do something bad, like pull on Murphy's hair. Murphy's my little sister and I was only pulling her hair to make it grow! I promise! My hair is long, but Murphy's is short and I wanted to see if it would grow, but it didn't, actually, a little came out. I got timeout for that and timeouts aren't fun. Maybe my mommy put my daddy in a timeout and now he's mad.

I wish I could see him though, I miss him. He's a very nice daddy, if you see him, tell him that I want him because I love him. He tells me that before I go sleepy time. He sits with me too and I miss him. Whenever I ask my mommy about my daddy, she just tells me I'll see him soon, but when is soon? What _is_ soon? There are too many things I don't know and I don't like that. I'm just little so I don't know things. My mommy says I'll learn and I believe her because she's my mommy.

I think something bad happened to my daddy. I think maybe he just doesn't want to be around. I cried for him last night and I know Murphy cries too, but he's still not here so maybe he just doesn't want to be here. I think he would like Kelly Clarkson too if he got to hear her. Then we could dance together again and I could be with my daddy because I miss him. I wish my mommy would tell me where he really is. I saw him last week and I tried to go towards him, but my mommy said we had to go. He waved though, I waved, but my daddy had to go too I think because he left too and didn't even come say hi. I miss my daddy.

If you see him, can you tell him I love him, say it's from Aurora, just in case he forgot.

**Untraceable **

When the ties are severed, how do they come together again?

How do you tie a knot from frayed edges?

Do you leave them there, to rot, fall off, disintegrate or do you try harder to bring them together again?

You almost want him to date Barbie just so it gives you justification for dumping him. At least that way, you would've felt like you were contributing to _something_ as sick as that sounds. They say that you should let someone be happy and at least if he looked happy, you wouldn't feel so goddamn miserable without him. You also know what the worst part is, beyond the fact he looks like a sad sack of crap.

The worst part is you were supposed to be married last Saturday.

You have the dress. It's sitting in your bed now. You forgot about the fucking dress. You cancelled everything else, you sent out cards saying there wasn't going to be a wedding, you explained it to the confused, but you forgot about the goddamn dress. It was delivered last Wednesday and you opened the box, not knowing what it could be and fuck, there it is and you don't want to touch it so you push it away from you. Better not to get tears on it since you'll be burning it soon. You can't return it, it's custom made and beyond that, it's fitted so you're stuck. Maybe you could donate it, but are there really brides in need?

You'd been through so much together: your failed relationship with Paul then dating Chris in the first place then getting over that hump from friendship to more then becoming unexpectedly pregnant with Aurora. Your parents threw a fit because you weren't married. Then you have her and life is beautiful and you get engaged and just as your about to set the date, you get pregnant again and you postpone it because you don't want a shotgun wedding with your stomach out to there. He understood then, understood your need for beauty and perfection. This is the only wedding you'll get to really have so you want it perfect.

Now nothing is perfect and everything is broken and you're broken most of all.

Your wedding was supposed to be beautiful, not posh or extravagant, you were shooting for beautiful. You could've lived with a few hitches, you prepared for them, but one hitch you didn't expect was your fiancé making out with a girl who was old enough to be his daughter. Yes, she was old enough to be his daughter, except he already has two daughters who miss him. You finally let him see them. It was Aurora's breakdown that made you see. She wouldn't go to sleep one night. She stayed up the entire night crying, screaming for Chris, then in the morning, when she could barely hold her eyes open, she whimpered his name and you knew you'd gone about this all wrong.

You'd wanted to become untraceable. You'd wanted to wipe him clean from your life, but it wasn't possible. You can't erase him clean off, not like you could Paul. Chris is the father of your children and damn it, he's always going to be. This should be something they warn you of when you start having sex. Yes, they tell you about unwanted pregnancy, but they don't tell you that that guy is going to be one you're stuck with forever. Now you're stuck with him forever and there's no way you're breaking free from that, no way you could. Aurora and Murphy need him.

You have hopes for the future and they're now busted. You have your dress in front of you to prove that. You should've been wearing that. That's your life now, a bunch of should have been's. You anticipated Chris unbuttoning every button down your back until it was completely free and then you expected him to unlace the corset you'd bought. You thought it'd make you sexier-looking. You hadn't realized that to make you look sexier you would have to bleach your hair, lose about four inches, lose about 20 pounds, and shave ten years off your age. If you'd known, maybe you could've tried harder. Never-mind the fact you went through a combined seventeen hours of labor for something he'd done.

Your doorbell rings and it's him dropping the girls off. You'd had Shane drop them off, but there was no way he could bring them home so you were stuck. You haven't spoken to him in two months and you're still not ready, you're so not ready. But you can't leave your babies on the doorstep. You head downstairs, glancing at the dress one last time. Maybe you'll burn it tonight, the last vestige of the big should have been you should have had Saturday.

You open the door and did he ever look so old before? He's looking his years and you wish you could laugh at him looking old, but you have no laughter left. You have some saved up for the girls, but none for him. Did you ever laugh with him? You don't even remember and if you did, was he really wanting to laugh with someone else? How much of your relationship is based on the fact you accidentally got pregnant and then ended up getting pregnant again? Chris is a good father and he'd never abandon his children, maybe he thought it had to be a packaged deal. You are just the "get one free" part of it.

"Hey," he said and his voice sounds hoarse to you, like he hasn't used it recently except there's no way you deal with Aurora and Murphy and not use your voice.

"Hi," you say back, looking away. "Thanks for bringing them home."

"You're welcome," he says. He hands over Murphy and Aurora bounds inside. He sets their bag inside the door.

"Well, bye," you tell him.

"Bye," he says and he turns his back and takes a few steps down the walkway and that's your relationship now.

Except he stops and turns around.

"No, no, I can't do this, I can't let this be it."

You're confused and you say so, "Huh?"

"It was a mistake, okay, I was fucking scared that I'd never be what you wanted. We started dating because you were upset about Paul, we started dating because I was your rebound and it stuck with me. I figured you stuck with me and then you got pregnant with Aurora and I figured well, now she's really stuck with me and I was fucking scared that I wasn't going to be enough for you so yes, I made out with Barbie, but I was doing it because I was fucking scared and I wanted to drive you away because I love you so goddamned much and I'm not going to be good for you."

You want to speak, but you can't form words and he's talking again after taking a deep breath to repose himself.

"I was stupid, I'm completely stupid and I can't believe I kissed her, she's annoying and grating and she won't leave me alone and I told her," he's frustrated now, you can tell. He used to get that look when he thought he was being a bad father when Aurora was a baby. He was never a bad father though, you think he's the best father. "I don't expect your forgiveness, you've made that clear you aren't going to give it and I accept that. I know I don't…I just made a mistake because of a stupid reason. It's no excuse, I don't have any excuse other than the fact I was afraid and I'm sorry, Steph, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid and I want to fix this and I don't know how and I love you and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

You look at him, this broken man and realized the same cracks and fissures and insecurities he has are the same ones you have and together, you match, like socks. You guys are like socks and he's genuine now because his face is red from the emotion of it all and you know he means it, you know in that moment that he acted out of fear, the same fear you have because you are one in the same. He is you and you are him and you love him and he's just as scared because the future is scary and he loves you and made a mistake and he's been paying, oh how he's been paying because you may have a dress you can't bear to look at, but he has to look at a woman, you, that he can't bear to look at because you hold everything he has. You have the house, the girls and God, how hard it must've been for him. You can't put Murphy down here.

You go inside and put her in her highchair, there are still some crackers on the floor. Chris is usually the one to sweep those up. Maybe you can ask him to do that soon. But first, there's more to do, so much more. You go back to the door and he figures you've left him because he's farther down the walkway now, probably thinking it's over and you've severed, but the knots are fixable and you are not untraceable, not to him, you never have been.

"Chris!" you shout and he looks and you're running because running is good and it's fast and then you're in his arms and he's kissing you and you forgive him in scattered phrases and you tell him you're scared too, the future is scary, but the good kind and they're a family and you need him and he tells you the same. You can be scared together.

You can make it.


End file.
